


Petals Of Blue

by screamingatstars



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Hanahaki Disease, Isolation, Love Confessions, M/M, No actual violence, but there is blood and pain, the archive warning is just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingatstars/pseuds/screamingatstars
Summary: After developing Hanahaki disease, Virgil resigns himself to his fate and vows never to let Patton find out....Patton finds out.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103





	Petals Of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I tried to look up whether or not the first ‘h’ in Hanahaki is meant to be capitalized or not, because I’ve seen it both ways, but I couldn’t find a definitive answer. I picked the option I thought looks better, so if it’s wrong I apologize.

The first time Virgil coughed up flower petals, he hadn’t known what it meant. One moment, he had been idly listening to music and staring at the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander from the lyrics to Patton to the events of the day to Patton to plans for tomorrow to Patton. The next, a sharp pain in his lungs had him convinced he was going to die that very second. He shot upright, desperately coughing, trying to rid himself of whatever had gotten into his airway, until he felt something plop onto his hand as the pain subsiding to an itch. He was left staring down at a light blue petal, sitting innocently in his palm, as if it was completely normal for it to be there. Several others lay scattered on the bed around him, all in the same shade of blue. All having apparently just come from  _ Virgil’s freaking lungs. _

He was out the door in an instant, fighting to control his breathing, the new, incessant itch in his chest not helping. Hurrying down the hallway, he knocked frantically on Logan’s door until it opened, revealing the logical Side.

“Virgil?” He said, confusion written all over his face. “What are you-“

“Do you know what the hell this is?” He interrupted, holding out the petal still clutched in his fist, hating the way his whole arm trembled.

Logan blinked, processing, then leaned forward to inspect it closer. “It looks to be an ordinary rose petal,” he said slowly, “though the color is highly unusual.” He reached out and pinched it between two fingers, squinting. ”A real flower, and not colored through artificial transpiration either… where on earth did you find this?”

Virgil looked both ways down the hall. “Can we talk inside the room?”

Logan nodded, stepping aside so he could enter and shutting the door behind him. Virgil took a deep breath, intending to explain then what had happened, but the action triggered another round of heavy coughs, more intense than before. He collapsed to his knees, struggling to draw air past the burning in his chest. 

“Virgil? Virgil!” Logan’s shocked voice was closer than he anticipated, and he felt a hand on his back. “Are you choking? Do you require assistance?”

He managed to shake his head, eyes watering as he regained control. There was something in his mouth, he realized: spitting it out revealed it to be a clump of petals. Fantastic.

Well, that was one way to explain what was going on.

“That's where I found it,” he rasped, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Just started coughing out of nowhere, and these petals came up.”

“You are coughing up flower petals,” Logan repeated in disbelief. 

Virgil nodded.

“It’s frankly absurd, and I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but what I can’t comprehend is the cause…” Logan adjusted his glasses and straightened his tie. “Let’s see. Have you been feeling otherwise unwell?”

“No, besides my lungs hurting and the whole petal thing I’m fine.”

“Hmm. Any other abnormal symptoms or sensations?”

“No.”

Logan frowned. “Do you have any idea what may have caused this?”

“No,” Virgil admitted. “That’s why I came to you in the first place, I figured you might know.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of any illness that causes a person to cough up flower petals,” Logan told him, brow creasing in worry. “Perhaps I am not the right person to ask about this.”

“What?” Virgil felt his eyebrows practically hit his hairline, and his heart started racing in panic. “Who else would know about something like this? If the embodiment of knowledge doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, who do I go to?”

————

“This is really pretty simple, Virgil,”said Roman, with only a trace of smugness. He pointed to the handful of blue petals that Virgil had brought from Logan’s room to show him. “Flower petals, specifically roses? With no other symptoms and no rational cause? You have Hanahaki disease.”

“What the hell is that?” Virgil asked, simultaneously relieved that he had an answer but extremely worried that Roman, of all Sides, was the one who had said answer. “I don’t think I’ve even heard of whatever that is.”

Roman put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Hanahaki disease happens when you’ve fallen in love, but the object of your affections doesn’t return your feelings. You get flowers blooming in your lungs, and over time you cough up more and petals, until…” he trailed off, eyes widening as if coming to a realization. 

A massive warning went off in Virgil’s head. “Until what?”

Roman looked away. “Until the flowers consume your lungs, or you choke on the petals.”

Virgil’s heart plummeted into his stomach, his head starting to spin.

“Hey, no, wait, there’s a way to cure it!” Roman cried, grabbing Virgil by the arms to stop him from keeling over. “If the person you’re in love begins to return your feelings, then the disease will go away!”

“Then I’m pretty much dead already,” Virgil muttered, closing his eyes to try and stop the dizziness clouding his head. “He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Roman asked, doubtful, and Virgil reluctantly shook his head.

“I mean, technically not, but why ask if I already know what the answer will be?”

Roman frowned. “Wait, who is it?”

Virgil didn’t answer. The last thing he needed right now was Roman trying to set up some convoluted confession. But then he saw him looking at the petals again, understanding spreading across his face, and it took him a moment too long to realize what the color would tell him.

“It’s Patton, isn’t it?” Roman gasped. “You’re in love with Patton!”

“No, I’m not,” he tried to say, but another coughing fit interrupted his denial, and the fact that the petals fluttering to the floor perfectly matched the shade of Patton’s shirt didn’t help his case much.

“Oh, Virgil…” Roman sighed, shaking his head. “You do love him. And the fact that you’ve gotten Hanahaki proves you love him a lot. These petals-“ he scooped up a fistful for emphasis- “are the manifestation of all your pent-up emotions! You’re literally dying of longing!” He let them slip through his fingers, and Virgil dejectedly watched them fall to the floor, mocking him. “Patton has lots of love to give, why not tell him how you feel? You could have a beautiful fairytale romance!”

“Stop it,” Virgil snapped. “That’s never going to happen. He doesn’t see me like that; he used to call me kiddo every chance he got. I’m not going to put myself through that sort of humiliation just because of some flowers.”

“Flowers that have the potential to  _ kill you,  _ Virgil!” Roman countered. “Why not admit your love, and give yourself a chance? He might not love you, true, but on the other hand he might!”

Virgil groaned, covering his face with a hand. “No, Roman. You don’t get it.”

“Then explain!”

“Fine, I will.” He picked up one of the petals between two fingers, holding it up to eye level. “This right here is proof that Patton doesn’t feel the same way about me. If he ever finds out about this whole Hanahaki thing, then he’s going to feel guiltier than we all did when we first realized we were gay. He wouldn’t think twice about his own happiness or comfort if doing that meant me dying. He’d do anything to heal me, including force himself to love me, because that’s just the kind of person he is.” He could hear the bitterness in his own voice, sharp and cold. “Patton would trap himself in a relationship he doesn’t want for the rest of his life. And he might be okay with that, as long as everyone else is alive and happy, but if you think for a single second I’m going to let that happen to the man I love, then you’re the biggest idiot to ever exist.”

———-

It had been four weeks since Virgil talked to Roman. In those weeks, his symptoms had worsened drastically. He was now coughing up the petals multiple times an hour, his chest constantly felt tight and achy, and the relentless burning itch in his throat never went away. From the poking around for information Virgil had done, he guessed it was only a matter of days before he started to see blood, and from there it would be a week and a half at most until he was dead. Assuming, of course, that Sides could die. Which none of them, with the possible exception of Remus, knew for sure, having never put it to the test. Not even Logan was willing to run an experiment with possibly lethal results.

The week before, during one of the regular checkups on his condition that Logan had insisted on performing, Virgil had joked that at least now they all got to test the boldest hypothesis of them all. Logan had not been amused.

In a strange reversal of expectation, Virgil seemed to be the only one in the Mindscape who wasn’t concerned at all about the possibility of him dying from this disease. Even Janus had been cordial to him ever since he was told, and Remus had only pranked him once. But Virgil wasn’t losing any sleep over it, except for the nights when he couldn’t stop coughing and hacking long enough to actually lose consciousness. He’d started taking sleeping pills every night, under Logan’s careful supervision, just so he could get some semblance of rest. But that wasn’t because he was worried about what would happen to him; in fact, he was more consistently calmer than he had ever been.

Now that he knew his fate was sealed, with no way out, he had come to accept it. There was no danger to try and avoid, no reason to try and ensure his own survival, because he was already dying. The only anxiety he felt now was for Thomas, in order to keep him going and keep him functional.

He had wondered a few times what would happen to Thomas when he was gone, but Logan had guessed that a new Anxiety would form out of the Subconscious. A replacement. 

Maybe that new Anxiety, whoever he turned out to be, would be able to help comfort Patton, who was by now the only one who didn’t know about the Hanahaki. He had felt guilty, at first, for basically lying to him, but the alternative was worse no matter which way he looked at it. So he didn’t tell Patton, plain and simple.

This was the best thing for everyone.

He hid the coughs and the petals as best he could whenever Patton was around, and did his best to act like everything was normal. Like his heart didn’t beat ten times faster than normal anytime Patton smiled; like he wasn’t so in love with him that it was killing him.

Even though it was.

————

A week later, Virgil shut himself in his room for good.

Hiding the disease wasn’t an option anymore. The flower petals were coming up speckled with blood, telltale spots of red against the cheery blue. He was getting to the point that he could barely stand, and each breath he took was its own battle to be won. Speech was impossible without choking on mouthfuls of petals every other word. 

He was going to die. He could feel the truth of it coiled up in his stomach, lurking behind his forehead, pulsing with his heart. Every bit of strength he had left was slowly but surely draining away, the exhaustion it left in its place an ever-present reminder that this was never going to go away. That his last remaining days would be nothing but more of this agony, this loneliness, this rose-scented misery.

And all because he caught feelings for someone who didn’t return them. 

What a way to go.

———

By now, Patton was beside himself with worry. He’d noticed Virgil becoming more and more distant lately, quieter and tighter wound, but then it had turned into full-on avoidance: constantly excusing himself from any room as soon as Patton entered it, exiting without making eye contact. And now, he hadn’t emerge from his room- as far as Patton knew- for days.

Under any other circumstances, he would’ve let it drop. Sure, seeing Virgil so clearly despise his presence hurt (a lot), but that was his choice, and Patton would never force anyone to be around him if they didn’t want to be.

But these weren’t exactly normal circumstances anymore. Not since Janus handed him a single bloody rose petal and told him it was Virgil’s.

Patton may not have been the most rational Side in the Mindscape, but he wasn’t stupid. He had no clue what was going on or what this meant, but it was clear from the grave look on Janus’ face that something was seriously wrong. And a quick Google search told him everything he needed to know: a sickness called Hanahaki disease. Unrequited love. Flowers in the lungs.

Death.

He could barely believe it at first, because if what he was reading was true, then the color of the petal would tell who Virgil was in love with. And it matched Patton’s shirt perfectly! So Virgil was in love… with him? 

He wanted desperately to believe it was true, if only because he loved Virgil with his whole heart. Virgil made him happy; made him feel like everything was right in the world. But there was one big problem.

Hanahaki was supposed to come from  _ unrequited  _ love. And Patton definitely loved Virgil. So why was Virgil coughing up petals?

He couldn’t figure it out, so he went to Roman. If anyone was likely to know the ins and outs of a romantic illness, it was probably him. And he turned out to be right when all it took was showing him the bloodstained petal to get him to explain what was going on. His face paled, and he quickly gestured for Patton to come inside his room, closing the door behind him.

“You should probably sit down, Padre,” Roman warned, showing him to a particularly squishy beanbag. “You’re probably not going to like this.”

———-

Patton didn’t like it.

Roman explained to him that if someone truly believed, in their heart of hearts, that the person they loved didn’t return their feelings, then they could get Hanahaki, whether or not it was actually unrequited. Meaning:

Virgil was convinced that Patton didn’t feel the same way. And Roman even confirmed it.

“He came in asking what it was about a month ago,” he admitted. “I tried to convince him to confess, but he insisted on keeping it a secret from you.”

“Why?”

Roman looked away, guilt written all over his face. “He thought that if you knew he was dying, you’d force yourself to love him in order to save his life. He swore he wouldn’t do that to you, and demanded I not tell you, either. He didn’t want you to make yourself miserable on his behalf when you didn’t want to love him.”

“But I do love him!” Patton cried. “And I won’t let him die like this! Is there any way to cure it?”

Roman put a hand on his chin in thought. “Well, usually it’s cured by the feelings being returned, but you obviously already do.” A blush crept onto Patton’s cheeks. “So perhaps a declaration of love would work- or even a true love’s kiss!” Roman’s whole face seemed to light up. “Yes, a true love’s kiss will surely break the curse! That’s it!” He jumped up, grabbing Patton by the shoulders and pulling him to his feet, ushering him towards the door. “You must go to your dark prince at once!”

——-

Virgil hadn’t heard anything other than his own ragged coughs for what felt like days. So when the sound of someone knocking at his door reached his ears, he didn’t fully register it at first, not even opening his eyes. But when whoever it was knocked a second time, louder than before, he finally realized what the noise was. Surprised, he didn’t think before he maneuvered his trembling fingers into a snapping motion that made no sound, but nevertheless opened the door. 

Even that small movement proved to be too much physical effort, and his lungs spasmed, filling his throat with the taste of metallic blood and petals that he coughed out as best he could, turning his head to the side and letting them fall onto the pillow.

Someone gave a horrified gasp. The voice was one he knew extremely well, one that never failed to show up in his dreams, and his heart panged with sadness, weak and strained and so full of longing.

And then Virgil remembered the reason he had confined himself in his room in the first place: to keep Patton from finding out about what was happening to him. His eyes flew open as he spit out the last of the petals, his stomach flipping when he saw Patton standing at his bedside. Wide, terrified eyes met his own, shining with unshed tears.

“Virgil…” The way Patton said it, so raw and heartbroken, made Virgil wish with every fiber of his being that he could sit up and pull him into a comforting embrace. Just hearing him sound so… so  _ small  _ was pure torture. 

He tried to say something, anything, to reassure him, but all that came out was a wet, garbled mess of incoherent noises. The next thing he knew, Patton was shushing him gently and holding his hand and stroking his hair, every touch unbearably soft and tender.

“Roman told me everything,” he murmured, tears starting to fall as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me you had Hanahaki disease because of me?”

Every single alarm in Virgil’s head went off at once. This was the  _ exact  _ scenario he had been trying to avoid, and now it was manifesting itself right before his eyes. He could almost feel the flowers choking his lungs pausing in their spread, as if mocking him.

Patton, oblivious to Virgil’s silent mounting panic, went on. “I’m sorry you went through all this, Virgil, I really am. If I’d known, I would’ve told you how I feel a lot sooner.”

Everything seemed to come to a halt. Was Virgil supposed to process this? He couldn’t process this! Did that mean what he thought it meant? Did Patton- could Patton possibly return his feelings? But how did he have Hanahaki if that was true?

“I can see the gears going in your head,” Patton said, smiling slightly. “But we should probably get those flowers out of your lungs first, so we can have an actual conversation.”

Virgil nodded dumbly, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind, instinctively, what was going to happen next. Sure enough, Patton leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, before moving downwards, whispering “I love you,” and capturing his lips.

It wasn’t anything like a movie. It wasn’t fireworks, it wasn’t the heavens opening, and it wasn’t filled with burning passion. Virgil was weak from days and days of coughing and choking, and his mouth definitely tasted like blood and dead flowers. Anything he did in this state was not going be anywhere near high-energy, and Patton seemed to understand that. As a result, the kiss was simple and short, little more than a longer-than-average peck, but regardless, it was not lost on him that it was their first kiss.

The effect was immediate. Patton had barely pulled back before Virgil’s lungs seemed to spontaneously combust, regurgitating their contents with a vengeance. He gagged, trying to cough but barely able to draw in air, blood rapidly filling his throat. Patton hurriedly pulled him up into a sitting position, holding his hand supportively, and thumped his free hand against his back. Large clumps of petals and blood dropped into both of their laps, splattering and staining, but Patton didn’t flinch or move away. 

After minutes of thinking he was going to die right there and then despite Patton’s saving kiss, Virgil’s whole body heaved, and the flower itself finally appeared, dripping red. The bloom was huge, bigger than his whole hand, with a thick, gnarled stem covered in dark thorns. The fact that that thing had been inside his lungs moments before was difficult to comprehend.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked, squeezing his hand lightly. “Do you need a minute?”

Virgil nodded, letting his now-empty lungs freely take in air, reveling in the ease that came with it. All the burning and itching had vanished, leaving behind only a lingering soreness in his chest that he was sure would fade with time. His whole mouth tasted like blood, and his throat was raw from all the coughing and the thorns, but he could breathe again, and there were no more petals. Would never be any more petals.

Because Patton loved him back.


End file.
